


Painting the Town

by Webfellow



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: A Rather Angry Super Mutant, Male Sole Survivor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7722145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webfellow/pseuds/Webfellow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the apocalypse, everything is a fight for survival, even a trip to the local hardware store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One hundred caps was a fair amount of money, and if one was clever, it would pay for a lot of things. Several nights at the Dugout complete food and drink, a full magazine's worth of bullets, or a couple of chems.

"That's crazy. I'm not going out there for anything less than three hundred caps."

It wasn't, however, worth leaving the safety of Diamond city to search for paint.

"Two hundred."

Heading out into the Waste was a daunting prospect for Nate, but the same could be said for anyone really. Diamond City, his current base of operation, was the hub of law, order, safety and baseball. Outside was a different story.

"Listen, you aren't paying me to just get you some paint. Just getting is to Hardware Town is risky, plus I have to deal with however many raiders are there. And assuming there's any paint left at all, hauling it all the way back. Now, am I getting those three hundred caps, or is the wall getting a fresh coat of crimson red?"

There was a second of hesitation before the answer. Nate could see very clearly that he had made the situation a hostile one. It was a dangerous move, which was going to lead to either jail time or the three hundred caps. He really didn't want to have to kill the older man if he could avoid it, he wasn't even armed, but if he called for the guards…

"Fine, you'll get your caps, now get going."

Despite the stern look the old man gave him, Nate kept his composure and left without another word, relieved and thankful that the threat had worked.

Beyond the walls of the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth the only law people followed was that of shotgun diplomacy. Raiders, Gunners, or plain desperate wanderers of the Waste; if one wasn't being gunned down by their fellow man, then they faced the fury of mother nature's irradiated creatures. The monstrous wildlife that prowled the land, hunting anything with a pulse and leaving nothing behind but a bloody mess. Given all that awaited him beyond the walls, it stood to reason that one hundred was nowhere near enough of a reward for him to risk his neck for a can of paint.

Every step was a dawdle as during his routine walk of the meagre selection of goods the markets had to offer. There was no rush to leave the city behind. He didn't believe himself merciless enough to even consider buying a "Swatter". Not one full of nails, or wrapped in barbed wire, or encased in metal; bludgeoning another man to death wasn't something he ever wanted to do again, not if he could help it.

A magazine was all from Commonwealth Weaponry, bought only to add to the small bullet collection he was building mag by mag. Ammunition was expensive in bulk, and there were never enough bullets stashed away to ease the fear of running empty in the heat of battle. The mean looking combat shotgun strapped to his back had one him more than a few firefights but chewed through the ammo reserves. As did the backup pistol holstered around his waist. The only weapon not taking a constant toll on his caps was the knife that accompanied the pistol. Dubbed the Last Resort, it was a new addition to the arsenal, once wielded by a raider who didn't quite understand that shotguns work best at close range. With a bit of cleaning and sharpening, it made a fine weapon.

Nothing needed to be built or repaired, his weapons and armor kept in constant top shape, so Myrna and her surplus of junk didn't get a look in. Instead, Nate made his way over to Chem-I-Care to find Solomon casually huffing jet and looking as relaxed as ever. Perfect timing.

"Your regular, Vault Dude?" In his chemmed up state, the question had taken three slow seconds, but the small payoff was worth it.

"No jet today. I need a shot of psycho if you have it."

"For you, two shots. For the price of one. Take'em or I will." Success. While high, Soloman was charitable to a near fault.

"You drive a hard bargain, Solomon. Here're your caps."

"Good. Now go do what you gotta do, I want some noodles." He brushed Nate aside and called across to Power Noodles, "Hey, Takahashi?! Takahashi! Yes!"

Delayed long enough, Nate eventually made his way up the steps, counting each one as he stepped closer to the main gate. His Pipboy had everything set for the violence that was to ensue. Vitals were stable, ammo was sufficient, and the map was marked for Hardware town. A quick nod to the guard had the gate lifted up and out of his way, it time to go fetch some paint.


	2. Not As Black As He's Painted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things are quiet, be suspicious

With a slow breath, he filled his lungs and tasted the thick polluted air. Now faced with the decaying ruins of the city he used to love so many years ago he stepped away from the protection of the city behind. Shotgun cocked and at the ready, he prepared himself for the inevitable. Old military training flooded to the forefront of his mind.

“Expect no mercy from the enemy, soldier. They want you dead. You hear me? Dead as a thanksgiving dinner! Six feet under and worm food. You ever want to see your family again? Any of you want to see your girls back home? Only one way that’s ever going to happen. You shut up, you nut up, you point your gun at the commie bastards and don’t miss!”

The drill sergeant certainly did his job. Under his rigorous training and constant appraisal of malice, Nate and the rest of his unit became one of the most ruthless squads in the U.S. fighting force. Blood and violence became all they knew, men trained like dogs for years until their sergeant was proved to be psychologically unfit for service, and by extension, every soldier trained under him.* Nate returned home to Nora. The sight of her standing in the doorway to greet him was the start of his journey back to the world of humanity. It was arduous, and he had his lapses more than once. Triggered flashbacks and violent outbursts, but the ruthlessness had chipped away over time. His loving wife was the light at the end of the tunnel and with her help he was a soldier no longer, a became a husband and, in time, a father. 

The training was hardwired into his person, but it was deeply suppressed, right until he lost everything in the Vault. The rage dragged out every memory hidden away in repressed corners of his mind. The training, the orders that justified murder, every night spent wishing he didn’t have to wake up to another day of being who he was. 

Nate stepped out of the cryo-pod ready to rip throats out but was only met with the body of his wife and a frozen audience to his show of anger and grief. Shaun was gone, ripped right from her arms and taken by strange men to who knows where. Nate had no time to mourn, that he could do once Shaun was safe. The Vault would be her resting place and the pod her coffin, for now, he promised, for now. No one was going to stop him from finding his son, his last connection to his own humanity, or so he thought.

In mere days, several near death experiences taught him that he was far from the worst thing to walk the Wasteland. He was no fierce monster, awoke from a two-hundred-year slumber with a vengeance, no, he was nothing more than an ex-soldier with a little bit of a mean streak.

The only thing that made any sense was that people were the same as they always were, just a little more violently inclined. His training had given him power of those same people before, he just had to be sure he kept it that way. War-torn future or not, Nate was still a scary, capable man and he soon put himself to use. Any paying work was good work, but mercenary jobs paid the most and very quickly became a reoccurring thing. It brought in a steady stream of “caps” and didn’t limit him to one location in his search for Shaun. Despite all his travelling and searching, he always found himself back in Diamond City saving up for that house. Fetching the paint was just bringing him three hundred caps closer his goal, three hundred little metal pieces that justified his leaving the city behind if even for a day. 

Getting to Hardware Town wasn’t half the challenge Nate had made it sound to the old man requesting the paint. The streets were clear of any of the usual threats, no hungry animals or raiders or out for his skin. It was worrying, and Nate quickly ducked behind the array of cars that littered the streets to avoid being seen. He weaved from car to car, unsure what to look for but knew that it had to be dangerous enough to scare off anyone or anything from the prime hunting grounds that was the main road.

Nate skulked along two more blocks before a pungent smell hit him like a punch. The scent of the rotting dead hung in the air, and, much to Nate’s dismay, only grew stronger as he continued along to Hardware Town. 

“Arrrg! Too quiet. Wanna kill something.”

The sudden call for violence confirmed his suspicions, there were Super Mutants about. It was possible that they had taken over the area, tearing apart and eating anyone they could get their hands on. Nate remained silent with his back against the car. He couldn’t see any of the green giants in his immediate area, which meant they hadn’t seen him either and he still had a chance to escape with all his limbs attached.

“Want. To. Kill something!”

The super mutant was growing closer with every second. Nate felt his heart skip a beat as it rounded the adjacent corner. The putrid smell alone was enough Nate to guess where it was, but it’s constant yelling made it very clear that it was just waiting on the opposite side of the street. Running was no longer an option, it was suicide. The mutant wouldn’t stop chasing him until it had him cornered and brained him with a sledgehammer, and that was assuming it didn’t have a gun. By adjusting the side mirror of his vehicular cover, he could see that it did, in fact, have a sledgehammer slung over its musclebound shoulder. It was well-worn and coated in a distressing amount of gore. 

With this, Nate began to plan his next move. Simply outrunning the monster wasn’t going to work and fighting it outright was just crazy; the only option left was to get distract it and flee the area. He collected an empty can that lay at his feet and threw it well over the car and into the other street. After the cacophony of sounds, it made as it met the floor, a blood-curdling silence followed, then

“Die human!”

There was a quick sound of propulsion before the car was crushed under the swinging hammer, barely missing Nate but utterly destroy his cover. Scrambling for distance, Nate turned around to see the mutant standing before him with its rocket-powered sledgehammer in hand. It raised the hammer high and struck again, Nate rolled to avoid the attack. Once on his feet, he did as instinct commanded when faced with imminent death. He ran, and the super mutant was only a dozen steps behind.

*I want to make it clear that I have no idea if this can actually happen in the real world military


	3. Painted Into A Corner

“Stop running human!” 

Another crushing blow from the super sledge destroyed the car separating the mutant and the cowardly human. In one motion, the super mutant retrieved his hammer from the car and had quickly closed the gap. Now with only five feet between them it continued to swing, and Nate pushed himself that little bit harder every time it did. Anchored down with all his gear made escaping a challenge. The combined weight of weapon and armor didn’t make things easier, but without military grade straps, very little of his munitions were holding still. Only by the miracle of low riding cars and easily climbable debris was Nate able to put get away, but the super mutant refused to let the squishy human off so easy. 

The chase had led to an old building, someway from the main road. Nate barreled through a broken door. It looked as every structure had after the bombs fell in the war. The blast had knocked holes in everything and time had done a fine job widened them, unfortunately none were big enough for him to slip through. He couldn’t tell what it was intended to be before but now it was a home to someone, as evidence to the clutter everywhere to prove it but whoever had been here before was long gone now.

An intangible roar came from not too far behind. The mutant hadn’t given up the chase just yet, and from the murderous look in its eyes, it had no intention to either.

Nate ascended a flight of stairs at a speed, grabbing the first thing he could see he dragged and kicked simple wooden table down the stairwell to act as to prolong his attacker’s approach. It tumbled down the stairs, almost breaking as it did, and wedged itself between the small walls as barricade. Not convinced the table would act as the blockade he so desperately needed, he turned his sights on a fridge and pushed it down to join the table. He gave a sigh of relief as it clinked all the way down and took up a good portion of the stairwell.

He didn’t get eight steps before the mutant pushed its way through the doorway, too small for a creature its size, and made for the blockade. With another roar it crushed the table in a single stomp of its powerful foot, but Nate was already gone.

There was no time to consider a way to double back and run past the mutant, the only objective was to get away. He searched frantically around for the flight third flight to take him higher but was met with a crumbled mess that was the next flight of stairs. Not uncommon to see in a collapsed ruin such as this, most likely broken to secure the floor above. Nate would have done the same had he been up there, but he wasn’t, he was downstairs with a raging abomination that was going to use his bones as toothpicks.

He put his faith that in the power of the bombs and hoped that there was a was a hole somewhere that would lead to the safety of another building. He pray was answered with bittersweet results. There was a hole he could pass through comfortably; it was up on the next level. what allowed him to see it was the gaping hole in the ceiling. Nate swore black and blue until he thought to move again. 

“Stop – grr, running human! Let me- arg, SMASH YOU.” The mutant’s shouting was separated by a few grunts; no doubt it was trying to force its large body through the stairwell. 

It was angrier now than when the game of radiated cat and mouse first began. It was about to win, and like any mouse pushed into a corner, Nate prepared for the coming battle. 

The shotgun made him feel like he actually stood a chance at surviving the encounter, however slim the chance might have been. He popped open the magazine to see how many shells he had left to put his faith in. The magazine wasn’t large, but it did the job. He fed two more rounds into the gun. He dropped the third in his nervousness, and followed it as the shell rolled into the next room over. Focused only on retrieving the bullet, Nate didn’t see the body he bumped into that hung just above his head. 

Draped in ripped and torn clothing he could see the many signs of primitive torture done to the poor soul. He wouldn’t have been able to function properly, certainly not well enough to survive in the Wasteland. Whoever he was, and whatever he had done to earn the marks, he had only recently given up on the world, deciding instead to let his body hang from the rafters. He swung back and forth ever so gently from the gentle push, it very barely hung in the second level at all. Watching its pendulum like motion, Nate realised something. The body could be reached. He would need a boost, but it could be hung on which meant that it climbed up. 

Riding on the coattails of his observation, the mutant roared in triumph of its victory over the tunnel. Nate collected his shell and threw all of his weight behind running into a couch. It skidded across the floor and stopped just short of the body but perfect alignment was far from the most pressing matter at hand. He knocked over the furniture piece as he jumped upwards and off the back frame. The corpse had held true and Nate clung on for dear life. He swayed with it as he tried to pull himself to safety. 

The body was cold in the way only a body can be. Nate tried to avoid thinking about how his bare hands were tugging at dead skin, how his human rope smelled so obviously of body rot and then how his thumb accidently slipped inside of an eye socket. Nate could only gag and keep climbing as the eye jelly coated his finger and oozed down to his palm.  


End file.
